


I'll be right over

by Augenblickgotter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #awakethesnake, #wakethesnake, Absolute fluff, Asexual Relationship, AwaketheSnake, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, No Smut, Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, both are bad at surprises, good omens - Freeform, it could get sexual but that's not the point of this story, it's july and Crowley just woke up, sorry - Freeform, wakethesnake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25026571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augenblickgotter/pseuds/Augenblickgotter
Summary: It's July First, #wakethesnake / #awakethesnake time for Crowley.Crowley had been plotting a surprise at the Bookshop, but finds Aziraphale may have plotted the same.This gets a G rating, but there is some language and drinking.Otherwise, it's cotton candy.Previous lockdown fic by me here- https://archiveofourown.org/works/23996323
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 90
Collections: AwakeTheSnake





	I'll be right over

Previous lockdown fic by me here; [Checking In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23996323)

_Ztttt..... Zzzzztttt._

Crowley winced his closed eyes harder as he turned his face towards the noise.

Through his closed eyelids, the faint red aura of the digital clock glowed.

_Zzztt.... zttttt._

He groaned and lolled his head the other way while swiping for it.

_"Infernal device. I don't need to listen to you anyhow. Why the heaven would I set it anyway? Nnnnuhhhk."_

He slammed until his fingertips mashed the top buttons, setting off the radio. And obscene pop song rose like smoke from nowhere. He growled, slamming his whole palm up and down.

Static screeches and songs replied to each touch until it finally went silent.

_"It seemed like a funny design at the time, including a chintzy sounding radio on these things. I can't even forgive myself for coming up with that idea."_

Crowley stretched and flitted his gaze out of his room.

"Wow, still dark. What time did this bloody device say again?"

He craned over and glared in confusion.

 _"11:45.... P.M? What the..._ "

His wristwatch went off. 

He squinted at the face and saw the time was the same.

"What, why did I set both alarms at this time? Wait, why am I wearing this watch in bed?!" 

Panic at his own confusion tickled the back of his head as he leaned up.

Things got stranger.

_"I'm.... partially dressed. But... I didn't pass out in clothes. No, it's just my pants and undershirt. Oh now this is strange..."_

He glanced back at his wristwatch for answers and squinted at the date bar at the bottom.

_"June... June? Wow, when did I... last day? Okay, okay, what is the occasion. Let me look."_

He grabbed his phone just as he saw the countdown timer on that nearing the final few seconds. 

"Oh no you don't," he growled as he punched that off and flipped to an event calendar. 

_"Uhh, let's see... Canada Day! Well, what's that mean to me? Nothing. Personal calendar..."_

Just as he was flipping for that, a digital sticky-note popped up in the corner of the screen.

**"Get to the Shop for surprise. Don't forget stuff in the chiller.** "

Crowley's eyes snapped wide as he flung the blanket off the bed.

_"Oh shit shit shit! Of course! It's July!"_

He thrust on his socks and boots, laying the phone on the bed to randomly scroll through mail and news.

_"Let's see, spam, junk, more spam.... well, let's see how the world is faring.... hmmm.... what? Still Pestilence? For the love of it, it's like you humans must want to kill yourselves. All the better for me to sneak out at midnight."_

As he rushed around to gather a few last items, he hit the messages on his answering machine. Mostly telemarketers, and a few from Aziraphale. It appeared, despite Crowley being good to his lockdown word of sleeping the whole time, Aziraphale would ring to just check-in and remark on small happenings. Crowley felt a small jitter the moment his voice emerged, tinny and stifled by the phone, grousing and rushing about something and concluding with how much he missed Crowley.

_"Yep, missed you too Mr. Do the Right Thing. Now to prove what a well behaved Demon I was."_

Crowley had his shopping bag loaded and snapped his way out the door.

_______________

Crowley drove rapidly through the sparse nocturnal traffic. 

His demonic sight could still catch signs at every business and occupation, ordering and begging humans to be safe. Wash their hands. Wear masks—social distance.

_"My god, this IS still a thing? Damn you Pestilence. Great Mortality. Great Pain in the Arse. Literally. You always were the gaudy one. Always a show, even if the build up was kind of slow. I mean, I shouldn't complain too harshly, it's not like it was here in 1347... or was it '48? Anyhow, my point is, retirement is retirement, and you never commit to it. Try it some time; it's not as hard as it seems. Whereas me, Demon by trade, take my retirement seriously. That's why I'm off to where I am."_

The Bentley stopped a few blocks from the Bookshop for Crowley to stealth in. It was closed, though he could see a dim light upstairs.

_"Ahh, up reading, is he? Perfect."_

When he made it to the door, a new message was handwritten in that familiar, flawless calligraphy, taped by the hours and policies.

**"TO ALL WISHING TO ENTER THIS SHOP DURING THE TIME OF PANDEMIC;** _Please note I will not let anyone in unless they are wearing a face mask for protection. This is for the consideration of all purveyors of books within and not for myself. I have my own mask if that is of any concern._

_Also, anyone wishing to handle books must be wearing gloves. If you do not have any yourself, I can provide but cannot promise a perfect fit and do not wish you to be turning the pages of my books with ill fitting gloves. It might crumple the pages. My advice is to bring your own._

_Furthermore, a distance of two metres* is mandatory between bodies. If you do not strictly follow these rules, I will gladly show you the proper distance or forcefully remove you from my Shop._

_Furthermore, if you don't NEED to come in, please don't. Don't risk your mortal life for a book; that's my job. I will gladly bring your purchase to the door if phoned ahead, but be specific about your book beforehand, please. Stay safe._

_Sincerely, A.Z. Fell & Co. _

* _Two Metres is approximately six feet._

Crowley chuckled and wondered if Aziraphale was marching around with a cloth measuring tape checking the distances between customers down to the inch.

_"Hmm, should I... sneak in? Nah, I said July, and it's a few minutes in."_

He snapped his fingers with a grin as the doors opened.

Strolling forth, he noisily snapped them shut behind him.

"Heeey, Angel! " He drawled in the dim light, swaying towards the center of the building.

"My watch says July, so it's very much July!"

He silently listened and heard nothing.

_"Hey! Aziraphaaaale! I'm here! Across the distance to get social! Oofff, that was kind of lame."_

Still nothing. 

Clearly, the Shop was in order, and everything was as it should be. Moving to the counter he did notice that on the floor were a few strips of tape positioned around.

Most of them very much indicating standing places of 2 metres apart very clearly.

"THIS IS TWO METRES!!!!" was written on one.

Crowley chuckled, but let out a full amused chortle at the sight of a tailor's measuring tape on the counter as he placed the bag down.

_"Well, I do know him, I admit. Now, I would know him enough to guess he's upstairs absorbed in a book, perhaps."_

Crowley stalked up the stairs, taking two at a time.

"Angel! It's your Favourite Fiend!" 

He pushed open the door and saw a lamp beside the bed. The bed was unmade, which alarmed Crowley. The tartan spread on top was mostly on the floor. Crowley rushed forward, snatching it up, looking for signs of struggle. Nothing. But the blanket wasn't cold. He placed a hand on the mattress. While not body temperature, it wasn't as cool as the rest of the room. He looked over at the mug on the nightstand. The contents were gone, but obviously JUST gone. Picking it up, he felt the tiniest residual warmth in the ceramic.

_"He was just here? He... left? "_

Crowley set the mug back down and seated on the plush mattress, gathering the comforter in his arms.

_"Did he think I was an intruder, maybe? Nah, he'd smite me in a millisecond, and even he knows better."_

Crowley unconsciously had begun cuddling the blanket and pressed his face against it.

_"Still smells like him. Sigh."_

He was starting to lay on his side.

He never wanted to admit how much he liked Aziraphale's mattress. The one Crowley had at his flat was firm and tight. 

Aziraphale's was the kind of plushness you could disappear into and forget which way was up or down, which always the perfect excuse when Crowley needed a nap while over. And excuses were his business. 

Crowley sighed as he got drowsier, hugging the Tartan cloth lump.

" _Maybe he did remember and rushed out to get some supplies to surprise me. Maybe. He usually has things on hand. Hmmm, maybe he forgot something embarrassing and wanted to have it cleaned up before I got back. Hehe. Won't he be surprised."_

Crowley was semi-conscious, musing at the plight of his friend when he reawoke with another thought.

_"Or he... set an alarm and is heading to my place to surprise me."_

Crowley squinted.

_"No, he wouldn't... Would he?"_

Crowley darted his eyes back and forth.

_"Oh Satan, he would!"_

Crowley bolted up and looked around like perhaps this was a joke.

_"Oh come on, he doesn't seem the type to go over and... well, I didn't see him. Oh, there is more than one way to get to my flat. Though it would be a miracle is he's there by.... ahhhhhhrggg."_

Crowley frowned and tossed on the bed, crossing his arms.

"Hey, Goldilocks!" he cried out, hoping this was still some prank. 

"You'd better not be tromping on foot to my apartment, baring porridge! Please be hiding in a cupboard or somethin'!"

Crowley jumped when a phone rang. He pulled out his cell and realized it wasn't that. It was the phone downstairs. On top of the frustration, Crowley had a frightening sense; Dark, large, empty bookstore, friend gone, and now a very old fashioned ringing from downstairs, echoing up the vaulted walls.

_"Maybe Aziraphale will answer it... "_

Crowley swallowed and forced himself to stand and rush down the stairs.

_"Aziraphale would call me on my cell... wouldn't he? But, who calls at Midnight! And damn you, why don't you have a modern phone with caller ID or a bloody answering machine."_

The phone commanded attention now as the bell became more and more grating.

Crowley grabbed the handle and held it up to his ear.

**"CROWLEY?!"**

It was Aziraphale's petulant voice, no mistaking.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley whispered.

"Of course, it's me! DAMN YOU! Are YOU AT MY SHOP?"

Crowley considered slowly.

_"Should I lie to not hurt his feelings and still do something or..."_

"Oh, damned I am, yes, that's right. But at your Shop? No, I'm, uhhh, out and..."

"Answering my phone how?"

"..."

"Crowley, I think we just tried to surprise each other in the same fashion."

"Oh, no, I don't think... where are you, anyways?"

"YOUR apartment."

There was a pause.

"Uuhh, how did you get there so fast, Aziraphale?"

"I walked, of course!"

It dawned on Crowley that Aziraphale had gotten up earlier than he had and taken the trek on foot. 

"Well, save your legs, Angel. I'll pop back in the car and be right over in a jiffy."

"Oh, no, please, let me just..."

Crowley hung up, grabbed his bag, pulled his glasses back down, and smirked.

_"Or so I said..."_

He snapped his fingers and was back at his apartment.

"Ha!" He cracked, spinning around. "Or maybe I'll just leave the car parked and..."

He cut his bragging off, looking around to the apartment as he left it.

"What? Aziraphale?! Now, c'mon man, this is just..."

He caught the faint whiff of a divine miracle fading fast.

_"He didn't just..."_

The phone on his desk rang.

"Aggghh!" Crowley growled and pounced.

"Crowley! Did you just go back to your apartment!?"

"Could I ask you the SAME?!"

"DON'T MOVE and..."

"Oh no, Angel, that's your job, stand back!"

"Crowleeeee..." Aziraphale's voice became slurred and metallic, but Crowley didn't catch that. 

Because at that instant, Crowley was molecularly becoming slurred and somewhat metallic himself as he poured himself through the phone line. 

He was tumbling and shrieking with laughter as he blazed down the multicolored shaft. 

"Heh! HEY! AZIRAPHALE!" he gleefully shrieked, "Ready or not.... OH SHIT! I FORGOT THE ALCOHOL AND TREATS!"

Crowley made his first-ever attempt to fight a high-speed phone line and found out it was utterly futile.

"Oh bloody flux and..."

"CroooOOOOOWLEEEYY!"

Crowley was mortified; The sound was coming at him, and it clearly was a queasy angel's cry. 

Faster than a mortal eye could blink and almost faster than a demonic eye could see, the bright form of Aziraphale whizzed by.

"For the love of everything unholy, you idiot!" Crowley yelled back as he saw the end of the line approach. After the dizzying matter of reforming, Crowley staggered over to the receiver lying on the desk.

"AZIRAPHALE! I said, stay there! "

There was no answer.

"Aziraphale? Hey? You..."

Nothing.

"ANGEL DON'T MAKE ME COME BACK THROUGH NOW AND..."

"Huff, huff, Crowley?"

"Aziraphale! Cripes, I was afraid I would have to come and get you out of my answering machine! Are you alright?"

"I'm... huff... fine... huff... just need... to breath."

"Aziraphale, have you ever done that before?"

"Uh, huff.... guess not. I knew you talked about it and thought I could try it..." 

"Uhhm, are you... really alright?"

"Collywobbles. Huff. I'll be fine. "

"Seriously... can angels get sick like that?"

"Apparently this one can," Aziraphale gasped.

Crowley cringed.

"Uh, okay, now just stay there, and I'll be over, got it?"

"No, really." Aziraphale cleared his throat. "You stay there, and I'll be over. I'll be much calmer at my place."

"But I left my stuff there!" 

"And I left mine there because I figured we'd come back there."

Crowley noticed the book bag and peered inside to see tins of treats and drinking glasses, along with a bottle.

"Hmmm, good thinking not to bring the crumpets through the phone line. That could have been a disaster. Like I was saying, you are too shook up to move, just stay and.... Aziraphale? "

The phone had hung up.

Crowley slowly hung up and rolled in his head what his friend would do.

_"Stubborn fool will march here, no doubt. Wait, he'd miracle... but... he's not here yet. He thinks I'll pop over and is waiting. So I should go... but what if he..."_

Crowley looked back and forth.

"Aziraphale?" he called out.

No answer.

Crowley puffed, grabbed the book bag, and began storming around.

_"He'll be coming, I know it. That's what he'd do... or what if he's peeved and waiting for me? What if?! Am I overthinking this?"_

Crowley peered out a window to nothing. He pulled out his cell and dialed his flat. It rang until his answering machine went off. Coyly he dialed the Bookshop and slid behind a bookcase. That rang nearby for an eternity until Crowley clicked the call to end.

" _Bastard. He is walking. Just to make a point, maybe hoping we'll bump into each other on the street under a street lamp. Oh no, not this Demon. I've worked too hard at this and earned my rest. Find me if you can, Angel."_

Crowley, still clutching the bag, loped up the stairs and opened the bedroom door. He slid in and, quietly shutting the door, snickering as he headed over to the bed in the corner.

He froze at the sight of Aziraphale, over-jacket, and shoes removed, sitting cross-legged on the bed. He was working a corkscrew into the bottle that had been in Crowley's bag, sitting open on the floor. 

Crowley pushed up his glasses to his forehead and glowered. 

Aziraphale primly smirked back as the cork popped.

"Hello!"

Crowley rolled his eyes and shuffled.

"Well, don't just stand there! There are glasses in that bag. So do come over here if you would."

"I was thinking of standing 6 feet away," Crowley mocked.

Aziraphale shrugged.

"More wine for me, I suppose."

Crowley scoffed and stalked over.

"Do I need a mask and gloves too?" he simpering, seating beside Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was enraptured, smelling the vintage with his eyes closed.

"Whatever makes you happy, dear."

Crowley lifted the bag from the bed and set both totes on the floor. He removed his jacket while kicking his boots off before seating beside Aziraphale. He fished around for the glasses and held one up deftly with a slight tilt.

Equally dexterous, Aziraphale began pouring down the edge.

"How was your nap, Crowley?"

"Hmm, not bad. Hate to see the world is still madness."

Aziraphale's mouth twitched in agreement.

"Rather," he muttered as Crowley swapped the glasses in his hands for the other to be filled.

"I always believed," Aziraphale confided, "That humans aren't given enough credit for their imagination and resilience. Yet..."

He tipped up the bottle and leaned to set it on the floor.

"Perhaps I don't remember to credit their inherent need to... neglect their true insufficiency for common sense."

"That's free will, Angel," Crowley replied as he handed a glass over. "Like I tell humans who might listen; it wasn't the fruit, it was the knowledge and will that came with it. The fruit just tasted good. Free will tastes even better but takes more than a few dozen years to fully taste. I love it personally, but that is several thousand years of imagination and resilience coupled with tons of questionable common sense."

Aziraphale sighed and raised his brows in agreement.

"Very true. Absolutely frustrating. Anyhow."

He shifted to soft smile as he turned with an affectionate glow.

"I missed you, my questionable comrade."

Crowley immediately let himself go with a lanky smile.

"Same. Even if I was sleeping. I missed our nonsense. So;"

He raised his glass as also Aziraphale raised his.

"To questionable free will."

Aziraphale chuckled.

"I don't think we'd be together without it."

_Clink_

They both savored their glasses and leaned into each others' shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> Simple fast fluff. 
> 
> >>  
> I know, won't cure cancer or anything.
> 
> I think most tailor/seamstress tapes of 5 feet long, but it seems like Aziraphale would still know how to use it. ;)
> 
> The (*) note for '6 feet' is assuming American tourists couldn't figure out metres to feet.
> 
> Yeah, so, I'm probably bending the rules that both of them could go through a phone line in opposite directions. Let's roll with it and assume Aziraphale just over applied a miracle to make it happen.


End file.
